No Need for Apologies
by Mazzie May
Summary: When Edwards starts to act more like Dan, Jenny becomes nervous, even more so now that she's going back to the Mansion and can't watch him. And where does Alyssa fit into all of this?
1. Roll Call

**Author's Note: I think I'mthe most active person in this section as of the moment. Whee!**

**Genre: horror/suspense/drama/scewed romance  
Pairings: none this chapter (implied Jenny/Dan)  
Chapter's Rating: PG-13 for cursing  
Chapter Summary: Jenny's tired of Edward avoiding her. So, she heads on over to his place to find out what's up. She doesn't like what she finds.**

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**No Need for Apologies**  
Chapter One: Roll Call  
_By: Mazzie May_

Jenny seriously considered chucking her cell phone across the room. She huffed, angrily running a hand from her hair line back to the nap of her neck. She angrily removed her boots, phone still in hand, cursing.

Edward didn't answer. Again!

"Fucking, damn…!" she forcefully threw her boots into the closet, and began to angrily pace her living room. Who did he think he was? Hell, who did he think _she_ was? This was total crap. She tossed herself onto the old, gray couch and sighed. She drummed her fingers on the side of the couch for a moment.

When this first started, she'd been worried. Things were a little awkward, but functioning after the chance meeting at the cemetery. Lately, for the last week or so, he'd been avoiding her, avoiding everyone, like the plague. They'd make plans, and he'd cancel. Then he just started making up excuses not to go anywhere. Now, he just quit answering his phone.

It was just so bizarre for him to do this. Well, it'd been a good chunk of years since she'd seen him, but as far _she_ remembered he wasn't like this. "You know what…?" she mumbled sitting up and heading for the kitchen. She scribbled a quick note across the pad on the fridge for Clara.

She was going to go over there.

After dashing a few X's at the bottom, she reread the note and cursed, crossing out the Dan's name and writing _Edward's_ just above it. No one knew that Edward Steinjer was Daniel Burroughs. Well, except for her. But she didn't make a habit of brining up that knowledge. She usually called him Edward still. Calling him any variation of "Daniel" made him twitch and withdraw further. So, she usually refrained.

Placing the pen back on top of the refrigerator, she headed out the door.

--

As Jenny made her way down the sidewalk, hopping over child-made slops and piles of discarded driveway snow, she decided she hated nature: spring aggravated her allergies and the cemetery ruined strolling; summer was too hot, and since she refused to wear revealing clothing, she nearly died of heat stroke every year; fall meant chores and working and painstakingly crossing off the days on the calendar until both of "those days" and; winter was just irritating and troublesome. She was never a fan of the cold, and winter was just a slap in the face.

_Screw Mother Nature_, she thought, rubbing her hands together, then breathing into them. Kay's house was easily within walking distance of Clara's, but with the storm dumping a good nine inches on the city the night before, the better part of an hour was added to the fifteen-minute trip. _Dammit it all, I—_

"Eep!"

Jenny halted at the high-pitched noise of distress. And just in the nick of time, too; she nearly plowed through a hopscotch zone. It was cute; the four little girls that lived in the house just down the block from Kay's had pushed enough snow away to reveal the sidewalk. Then, outlined a hopscotch square and one those lines packed the snow a few inches high, the boundaries were raised.

The small sound of protest had come from the mini-architect closest to her. She smiled down at the pig-tailed girl. "Sorry Amy."

"S'kay," Amy smiled.

"Jeanie!" Jenny smiled. Turning, she bent down and scooped the two-year-old who got real close, but just couldn't say her name right. "Lookie wat we make!" She pointed a small, yellow-gloved hand at the hopscotch square.

"Mmm!" Jenny hugged the girl and then swung her down. "Very nice, Lacey. But I gotta go now."

Lacey squatted down and got a big handful of snow, blinking big brown eyes at her. "Where?" She started to put the snow in her mouth, but a hand hiding in a blue glove smacked the white chunks from Lacey's grasp.

"Don't," Stacey ordered. The eldest of the four, she had to be bossy. "Daddy says not to."

"Aww, play nice," Jenny said gently. She looked around. "Where's Nancy?"

"She's sick," Stacey said, walking around to the other end of hopscotch zone.

"Oh. Tell her I hope she gets better." She patted Lacey on the head. "I gotta get going now, though."

"Wanna play?" Amy asked. Jenny opened her mouth to decline, but closed it with a sigh. Looking around at the cute little girls in matching snow suits and jackets, she just couldn't bring herself to say 'no'.

"Alright, but only one time, okay?" They cheered.

--

Jenny fixed her hair outside of Kay's door. What had been one round of hopscotch turned into a tournament; she and Lacey versus Amy and Stacy. She and Lacey won. Now, she was a bit of a mess. Though, she didn't know why she worried about fixing herself up. It was only Dan, after all. Okay, more like, 'It's Edward, after all'. She could stick her head under a lawn mower and he'd still tell her she was beautiful if she asked him to.

Giving up on her hair, she knocked on the door. It took a few minutes, which annoyed her, and she brought her hand up to _pound_ on the door, when it quietly opened a crack.

Edward was looking out at her through the small sliver of space. She blink, dumbfounded, then sighed. She placed her hand against the door and began to push. The door didn't budge. She opened her eyes, and turned her head.

"Edward…" she began slowly, as though talking to a child. "Open the door." She pushed again. He hadn't moved. "Let me in," she said harsher. He continued to just look at her. She took her hand away from the door and leaned her shoulder against it, crossing her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

Still, nothing. She rolled her eyes, deciding to humor him. "Alright, Edward. Why can't I come in?"

Silence. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to just shut the door, but then, "You shouldn't be here."

Her face remained frozen in the expression of a mother listening to her child, although she did blink. And blinked again. "And… why is that?"

"Just go, okay?" He went to close what little open space was left, but she shot her hand out into it. He stopped before crushing her fingers, much to both of their relief. _That…was kind of close. I don't think I'll do that again, _she told herself.

"No, not okay." She stepped up to the door frame. "And I wouldn't have to be here if you'd—" she pointed at him. "would come out and play some time." He said nothing. "And, hey, what's up with that?" she continued. "You're making up every excuse under the sun to not see anyone anymore." She rested her head against the door. "What's up with that, Edward?"

Jenny could see the emotion slid over eyes, but his resolve shown through. "You shouldn't want to see me," he replied darkly. _That_ made her stand straight. She turned her head away from him a little.

"What…" Edward never brought up the murders. Ever. _Ever._ It was something that was not discussed. She didn't understand what was going on. "You don't want to see me anymore," she said, a statement, not a question.

"Is that what it takes to make you leave?" She jumped a little, startled. He'd practically hissed at her. But that's not what sent icy needles down her throat and into her belly. He'd used _that_ tone. The Scissor Man voice.

She swallowed, taking a step back. Guilt suddenly over took what parts of his face she could see. "God, I'm sorry…" he whispered. "Jenny…" He sounded like he was pleading.

She took her hand away from the door, backing down the stairs. "I'm… gonna go, okay? So, don't…"

He opened the door more, stepping out. He meant no harm, of course and she knew that, but the movement was too quick, too _Scissor Man_ and she fell backwards down the last two stairs, screaming, "NO! STAY AWAY!" Her arms were up and out, a position she often found herself in while against either of the Scissor Men.

Seconds ticked by. She breathed heavily, huffing in and out, sweating, her arms shaking from tension. Edward was frozen, one arm out reached, his body still half inside. He retracted his out stretched limb, and slid back into the house the way Dan used to slither from shadow to shadow in the castle.

This did not help Jenny as she tried to calm herself down. Every internal alarm inside of her was going haywire, begging her to make a run for it. Her legs were twitching, her skinning _itching_ to be strained against her muscles in a mad dash to get very far away from where ever he was. But rationale reminded her that this was _Edward_ not Dan. Edward would never cause her harm. Ever, for any reason.

Carefully, she eased herself up. The door was slowly closing, and she couldn't see him, but she did hear, "I'll call you later…"

--

Jenny staggered over the snow, trying to remember how to breathe. It was getting dark. Her mind was reeling and she was having the worst time trying to slow it down. She stopped, leaned against a light post and grabbed the sides of her head, digging her nails into her scalp.

What the hell happened? Edward answered the door, Edward was talking to her, but _Dan _threatened her. _God, what the hell. _She felt nauseas. She looked around her surroundings. No one was out at this time a night with it being a billion below. She hacked.

She thought she was over this. Well, maybe not _over it_, but she definitely thought she had a better hold of her fear than this. That's what she'd been telling herself, anyway. Edward was no threat to her. She could make him do anything she wanted. And on those nights when she had violent memories and she needed to be back in control, you'd be damned if you didn't think she made him do whatever she wanted.

But then, she didn't fear Edward. She feared _Dan._

She was going to go home, wrap herself in a big stuffed quilt, and let Clara tell her that she was safe and that nothing could hurt her, fall asleep in her arms and tomorrow morning go back and see if she could find out what the heck happened tonight. Talk to him, calm him down. Something, anything to prevent Dan from reappearing.

"You can't stop this."

Jenny's head snapped up, and she spun around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. _Bobby,_ her mind screeched. _That sounded like Bobby!_ Impossible, preposterous.Both Scissor Men? No way.But as Jenny finished making thethree hundred and sixty degreeturn, and came to a halt, she knew that there was no one around.

Her fear got the better of her.

She dropped to her knees and vomited.

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**Author's Note: Before anyone becomes too confused, this is a sequeal. The first story is titled 'Sorry Doesn't Make it Okay'. I would suggest reading that first, but at the same time, it's not required. It's poorly written and I don't know what I was thinking when I typed it. But enough people were pleased (one person in particular coughyouknowwhoyouarecough), that a sequal was in order. This is not a one shot. There will be more chapters.**

**R&R please. Any commentary appreciated.**


	2. Quiet Persuasion

**Author's Note: Dude... I have no idea what I'm writting. Sorry for crappyness.**

**Genre: angst/drama/friggin' wrong romance  
Parings: Bobby/Dan (implied Jenny/Dan)  
Rating: I checked, this is just within the PG-13 bounds. So, ha!  
Chapter Summary: After Dan sends Jenny away, Bobby decides to do a little bit of pushing to see just where he stands with him**

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**No Need for Apologies**  
Chapter Two: Subtle Persuasion  
_By: Mazzie May_

Dan watched through the curtain as Jenny staggered away and down the street, dazed and obviously scared. He glared, hurt and angry. "Happy?" he spat. He dropped the curtain, and turned away from the window. Dan walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Bobby uncrossed his and pushed away from the wall. "You know I won't be happy until she's gone, Daniel."

"She's not going anywhere," Dan said, pushing past his brother heading for the stairs.

Bobby grabbed Dan by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall on the stairwell, forcing him to stumble. His hissed as his ribs connected with the wood.

"Daniel," he breathed. "You shouldn't talk to your elder brother that way." Dan grimaced, knowing he was right. He could act as tough as he wanted—at the end of the day, they both knew he would never go against Bobby.

Bobby began to pull him up the stairs, forcing Dan to basically crab walk backwards to keep up with him. Bobby yanked him up half pushing, half dragging him down the hall to his room.

The door slammed against the wall as they barged into Dan's bedroom. He was fairly sure the doorknob made a hole in the wall, but it was one of the farthest things from his mind as Bobby shoved him onto the bed. Bobby climbed on top of him.

"Daniel," he said, straddling him. "You know, I've been thinking. About our lives, the past…" It was getting dark, angry shades of orange and red consuming the room. Dan closed his eyes as Bobby began rubbing his palms into his shoulders. "About how great—" He leaned back and pushed down, pressing his pelvis into Dan's lap. He took a shuddering breath opening his eyes. He practically grinding in short bursts. "About how everything used to be."

Grind. "Before the mansion." Grind. "Before the castle." Grind. "Before Jennifer…"

Dan was seeing colours. He could hardly remember how to breath and he was so close to just sighing and letting Bobby have his way, when the mentioning of Jenny brought him back. Her name was like a bucket of ice water. He tried to sit up.

Bobby must've felt the movement coming, and grabbed both Dan's wrist, holding him down. "Brother!" He grinned, and Dan struggled harder. They wrestled a little, though it was fairly pointless; Bobby was always the stronger of the two. When he finally managed to get his arms off the mattress, Bobby ended up just pinning his hands above his head.

"Daniel, you never used to fight it. Not like this…"

--

"You remember, don't you?" Dan struggled, but Bobby wasn't worried about it. He only had to use one hand to keep both of Dan's above his head. Dan wasn't fighting him at all, really.

"No..!" he whispered weakly. Bobby laughed.

"No, hmm?" He had to give it to his little brother; not too many people would be honest in this situation. Then again, Bobby wasn't being truthful to begin with. There was nothing to remember; Dan had never been aloud out of his "room", his cave. But Bobby had to use something. If Dan was more loyal to Jennifer than to himself... No, no. He had been willing to kill Jennifer before. Bobby could make him do it again. Just needed some... forceful urging. That was all. He used his free hand to run his fingers down Dan's chest hidden beneath the black shirt. "Suppose I'll have to remind you, then."

Bobby hooked two fingers into his brother's waistline and the younger boy gasped at the heat. It had always been like that; Bobby was a furnace and Dan was an icebox. Bobby knew that his fingertips must've felt like burning matches being pressed against his cool flesh, but when Dan hissed, Bobby didn't miss the note that the sound wasn't that of hurt.

"I…" The younger murderer's breath grew heavier with every exhale, as Bobby repositioned himself above him, placing his left leg in between Dan's. "Brother, I…don't…" Bobby leaned towards his lips, but Dan turned his head away suddenly, whimpering, "I… don't… want this…"

Bobby leaned back a bit, raising a brow. _Dear Daniel,_ he thought, undoing the button on his brother's dark jeans. _What has this Jennifer whore done to you? Oh, well. _

"You missed me, didn't you?" He asked gently, putting more pressure on Dan's wrists. He nodded, on the verge on panting. Even in the dark, Bobby could see it. Although… "I want to hear you say it," he whispered, biting Dan's exposed neck.

"I—" Bobby licked the red mark he'd just made. "Uh!" Dan's body was rocked by a giant tremor. "I didn't—"

Bobby grinded his knee easily, but purposely into Dan's groin. Even though he had nodded, he was going to tell Bobby he hadn't missed him. He knew the words were coming, and for some reason, that knowledge constricted around Bobby's heart. Dan let out a painless scream.

"You missed this, didn't you?" Dan tossed his head from side to side, and Bobby wasn't sure if it was a 'no' gesture, or if his little brother was just trying to get himself under control. Bobby pressed on. "It was like this all time, when you'd come to me." He continued to rub his knee in between Dan's legs. He groaned, and Bobby smiled something terrible. "You want this."

Even in the dark, Bobby could see Dan's flushed, sweating face, eyes screwed shut and the tears that were leaking from them. He tired to say something, tried to deny again, but Bobby decided to unzip the poor boys jeans and slid his hand in. Dan screamed again, his body giving in, pushing itself into his palm.

And then, Bobby hesitated. He was having a good time, yes, but he glanced at his little brother's face, and felt a sting of guilt. Dan was whispering pleas, begging him not to, though his body was asking for something else. Bobby took a moment to contemplate, trailing his nails up and down his brother's erection. This was really hurting Dan. Bobby was never a fan of his brother being hurt. _And yet…_No, this had to go on. He took a rough hold of Dan's penis and the boy let out a sob, though Bobby knew his body was thanking him. The senior killer once again smiled that mean smile.

It was no trouble getting the jeans and boxer briefs to Dan's knees, but through that, he continued to cry, wailing for Bobby not to. _It's all for the sake of revenge, Daniel. You'll understand. Eventually. _The way his body complied but his mind resisted still bothered Bobby, so he used his legs to old Dan's down, so his hips would quit lifting into the strokes.

Even sweating and throbbing inside of Bobby's hand, Dan was cold. The hand job was crude on purpose; he'd dig his nails in for a moment and listen for the wet choked noise of surprise, and he'd stop suddenly, squeezing it with a good amount force, and feel just as much as hear the deep moaning that lasted as long as the hold did.

When Dan came, Bobby didn't stop, but was sure to move. He tried to sit up, but Bobby applied more pressure to his wrists, forcing Dan to arch his back and toss his head back. He screamed for his brother and how he loved him, how great that felt and how he wanted more. All the things Bobby wanted to hear.

When the rhythmic thrusting of the orgasm was through, Bobby pulled away and slid off to the side. "Daniel…" he said with all the softness of cotton. "Did you mean everything you just said?"

Dan turned his head towards the voice, still sniffling. The hesitation in the air angered Bobby, but he knew the truth. Instead of listening for another lie, he waited for Dan to open his mouth a little. When he did, Bobby pushed into it. It was brief kiss, but there was something wrong with it. He tasted Dan, yes. But that was hidden underneath something. _Someone_.

_Jennifer. Jennifer_ coated his mouth.

Enraged, he pulled away, his brother gasping. He considered striking him, but decided against it. In stead, he took the open mouth. Dan let out a strangled noise of distress as Bobby bit down on his tongue, tasting blood. He used his tongue to gag his brother. It didn't take long.

Bobby leaned back and stepped away. Dan rolled to the side of the bed and vomited onto the hard wood floor. The splatter pleased Bobby. Whatever bits of Jennifer that were there were removed by stomach acid and other humors. Dan coughed and choked, spitting out whatever was left. Bobby watched his outline in the dark and was able to make out his arms hugging himself as he let his head hang over the edge of the mattress. He started crying again. Hard. Hard enough that he could make himself sick again. _Good_, Bobby thought, turning away from the mess. _Even less Jennifer._

"Good night, Daniel," he called walking out the door. He turned around just inside the doorway. "I love you."

Even as Bobby was opening the front door, he could hear Dan crying upstairs.

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**Author's Note: I checked and even reworte certain sections. This is right on the border of PG-13, or T, or whatever. I do not have to change the rating. And since this is the worst it'll be through the stroy... Then, I'm not too worried about it. And sorry about the poor writting. I really have no idea what I'm talking about it when it comes to this. Seeing as how I'm a girl and the eldest, I've never experinced gay, twinsest that is borderline-molestation. Kind of had to wing this.**

**R&R Please. Any commentary appreciated. (Especially for this chapter) **


	3. To Remember

**Author's Note: Plot! Look, it's plot!**

Genre: Drama/Suspence  
Pairings: None this chapter  
Rating: PG this time  
Chapter Summary: Torn from pleasent memories, Jenny decides to take action in the one place she wished she could never remember. A "gift" is presented for the occasion.

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**No Need for Apologies  
**Chapter Three: To Remember  
_By: Mazzie May  
_

Jenny sneezed and wrapped the giant quilt around her. It had leaf patterns all over it, in different shades of green and yellow. The underside was a foresty colour. It was something that was comfortable. It was something that was safe. It was something that made her feel loved.

It was something that was Helen's.

She stuffed her face deep within the folds of the quilt. It felt like Helen, it smelled like Helen, it let her bury her face into it like Helen… A burning sensation spread behind her eyes and she bit her lip. _I miss Helen, _she thought, the soft fabric absorbing her tears straight from her ducts, keeping her cheeks dry.

Jenny was bold, stubborn and downright rude half the time. But those were defenses; she only acted that way when she was scared, unsure and offended. If Helen was around, if some as _strong_ as Helen was around, she wouldn't have to resort to those defenses so often.

Clara was protective, furiously so. She banned all scissors and the colour red in her house, and enforced it with an iron fist. She could be the sweetest woman with the softest touch and the kindest smile. Jenny removed her face from the softness and looked at the Amour against the far wall.

It was stuffed full of firearms; various handguns, a couple of shotguns, a few select fully automatics... Yes, Clara was Mrs. Cleaver. A heavily harmed Mrs. Cleaver. One of the reasons the country aloud Clara to take Jenny was that she's ex-marine and retired Secret Service for the First Lady. She knows a thing or two about protection and safety, and she moved all the way to Norway from the US solely to protect Jenny.

But Clara only made her feel physically safe. And while that was important, Jenny was pretty damn confident in her own self-preserving abilities (and rightfully so—look what she's managed to get herself out of!). What she needed was someone who could protect her mind. When she had nightmares, Clara would hold her and tell her that whatever happened in her mind couldn't hurt her.

She was half right.

"Jen-Jen!"

Jenny looked out into the doorway, and saw Clara close the door. She opened her mouth to say hi, but immediately closed when she saw the extremely pissed of expression on her guardian's face.

Clara threw an opened newspaper on the coffee table. Jenny leaned forward to read the front-page headline.

**BURROUGHS MANSION SCHEDUALED FOR CONVERSTION!  
**Due to the fire at the Haven Museum of Art, located in Lillehammer, the Curator,  
one Professor Rupert Mainden, was looking for another historical place of fine   
craftsmen work to house his treasures. Lucky for him, the government finally  
placed the Burroughs Mansion on the market. At a cool 7.5 million € (9.5 million,  
US), Mainden purchased the estate. After receiving the keys, Mainden was quite  
surprised to the find the place completely furnished. "The Governor never sent in  
a clean up crew," Mainden later said. "Gave me quite the start! Though, I must  
admit, I'm very glad he was so lazy." Apparently, the mansion is stuffed full of old  
relics and paintings and other things the Curator is excited about it. "I'll be putting  
off the clearing out process until I've had a chance to examine everything," he said  
yesterday. As many of you know, the Burroughs Estate was home to some grizzly  
murders some years back, despite that…

Jenny couldn't read anymore. Her lower lip quivering, she looked up and found herself alone in the room. Clara forgotten, she reached for her cell phone. She screwed up the number twice, but got it right on the third try. Shaking, she lost more of her composure with every hallow ring.

Finally, he answered.

"Talk to me!" he called into the receiver.

"Nolan!" she cried, holding the phone with both hands. "The paper! Did you see the—"

"Yeah, yeah, we saw. We're going."

"What?"

"When Tim brought it to my attention, I threatened Baids into assigning me to cover it."

Jenny sat still for a moment. Then, quietly, "Take me with you."

"What? Speak up!"

Louder, "Take me with you!"

"What!" Nolan had a happen of mocking people, but that exclamation had been of genuine surprise.

"Do it, Nolan!" She stood, still hugging the quilt. "Take me with you or I'll hitchhike there."

"Jenny—"

"Nolan!"

There was a heavy sound on the other end of the phone, and then what sounded like muffled arguing. She bit her lip, feeling the skin break. The argument stopped, and he took his hand away from the phone. "We'll be there in ten. Be ready."

"I will be." They hung up. Nolan never said goodbye, so she didn't either. She turned, balling the quilt up. "Clara!" She stepped into the hall, looking up the stairs. "Clara!"

"I'm packing!" Jenny's head snapped back, looking past the stairs, farther down the hall where Clara's room was. "I'm going with you!"

Jenny thought about arguing, but decided against it. Instead, she jogged up the stairs to stuff her duffle bag. Her room was a pale yellow, buttercup, with white trim. Her bedspread was white, her curtains were white, her carpet was white… It's a pretty room. She dropped to her knees and retrieved the black bag. Helen had bought it for her when Jenny signed up for soccer. She never used it. She left it unzipped on her bed, throwing open the closest doors (also white).

Even though the mansion wasn't what it used to be, and even though she knew it shouldn't—_wouldn't—_be a problem, she grabbed a couple of t-shirts, a windbreaker and a couple of pairs of jeans. It was easiest to run in those. After stuffing those into the bag, she grabbed another pair of jeans and a sweater, heading for the bathroom.

She closed door. She wasn't sure why, but she always did. Even though her bedroom door was closed, and Clara wouldn't come in without asking--and even if she did, it's not like she didn't know what a naked girl looked like. _Then again,_ Jenny thought pulling off her turtleneck. _I'm never naked._

She always changed in parts. Take off the shirt, put on the new shirt, throw old shirt in laundry bin. Put on the pants under the long skirt, take off the long skirt, throw long skirt in laundry bin. Bathing was different, and she was quick as could be, but her long hair made it a little difficult. Still, she was in and out in less than seven minutes.

Picking the bare necessities out of her medicine cabinet, it happened.

A shadow passed beneath the door.

She froze, and then slowly turned her head towards the door, looking down at the space between it and carpet. She waited. Nothing. Turning completely, she quietly turned the doorknob, and then threw open the door with as much for as she could from that angle. It didn't hit anybody.

She stepped out, carefully. After the mannequin and trophy room, she'd learned to be aware of all minute changes. A quick horizontal scan of the room revealed little. Had she imagined it? Probably. She checked her door and windows. Locked. Considering her soon-to-be current situation, her mind was getting ahead of itself. Getting the better of her.

She shook her head and retrieved her toothbrush and make-up, calling herself paranoid. She'd been under the bed and in her closet. No one had been in either of those places. And if the door and windows were locked from the inside… _Get it together, Jennifer. You're an adult._ As she zipped up the bag, she paused. _You're a grown-up_. The phrasing made her feel better.

Shouldering the bag, she unlocked the door and opened, turning to her (white) vanity for her keys. Her hand hovered over them as she looked just to the right.

A glass bottle that she almost recognized sat there.

It was filled with a goldy-red colour. _Brandy?_ she wondered, slowly unscrewing the intricate top on the bottle. Removing it revealed that it was indeed was not brandy, but the scent was one that would never leave her. She coughed and gagged, falling against her bed in disbelief.

_Mary's perfume!_ She coughed some more. _The dogs and the robe and the perfume…! _Her body adjusting to the shock value, she pushed herself up and, covering her mouth and nose, she leaned towards it. Tied to it was a note. Carefully, she flipped it over.

You might need it again.  
Though, Mother wore it better.

She leaned back quickly, eyes heading right for the mirror. She was scared she'd find Bobby, but she expected Dan, donned in mask in all. _But how!_ Her mind asked as her eyes scanned her background. _Where would he have been..?_

But there was no one. The room behind her was empty. She blinked, turning around and looked again. Nothing. No one. Confused, and nearly annoyed, she bent back over the vanity, rereading the note. Why would she need it again? Surely those dogs couldn't be… Then again, when she escaped, the_ politi _did swarm the place. And if the Governor really hadn't had everything inside liquefied, then it's possible an animal caretaker would've been coming to feed them. But why not just take them away?

A honking horn outside symbolized a rushed Nolan, and the sound nearly made her jump out of her skin. Swallowing, she muttered, "To hell with it" and grabbed the bottle and put the cap on it as she was jumping down the stairs, three at a time. Clara held the door open for her.

Jenny rushed out into the snow and Tim pushed open the back passenger door for her. She slid in next to him, shoving the tightly closed perfume bottle deeply into her bag. She zipped it up again, handing the bag to Clara, who placed it in the trunk before getting into the front passenger seat.

She looked at Tim who was looking down at her hands. She looked, too. They were shaking. She quickly pulled her fingers in to form fists and smiled at him. "Nervous," she offered with a small shrug.

He gave her a shaky smile. "Me, too."

She patted his knee, trying to reassure him. He nodded his thanks, even though they both knew he was still scared, and he went back to fiddling with his camera. She turned to Nolan as they pulled away from the curb.

He flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror to look at her. "We're looking at a thirteen hour drive," he stated. Jenny's eyebrows came together in anger, and her mouth dropped in surprise. He held up his hand to cut her off. "I'm going to go a hundred and twenty the whole way, Jen. That'll knock it to seven hours, easy."

She closed her mouth, still pissed off. But seven was better than thirteen by a long shot. She leaned back against the seat, holding the door handle as Nolan turned a million times too sharp on a corner, forcing the car on two wheels. No one flinched. They were used to Nolan's driving. That besides, after everything they've been through, they were confident a car accident would not take their lives. Despite the fact that a car accident caused by Nolan would be a fifty-car pile up extravaganza, with metal and rubber raining down, whilst people spin through the air.

"Jen-Jen, dear." Jenny looked away from the window and leaned over to look between the two front seats. "Here, wrap yourself in this. Don't want you catching cold." Clara turned around—she wasn't wearing her seatbelt—and handed her Helen's quilt.

Jenny squeaked, and gladly took it. After seeing that shadow under her door, she'd forgotten all about it. She brought her knees up, tucking herself in, bringing it high enough that all they could see were her eyes and the top of her head. Clara patted her knee, turning back and Nolan rolled his eyes, letting his foot ride heavy on the gas as they entered the expressway.

She turned and saw that Tim was looking at. "Wanna touch it?" she asked, like a small child. Tim smiled and reached out.

"It's nice!"

"I know!" she chirped.

She might not like where she's going, but the way there didn't have to be so bad. She looked back out the window, looking for the sun in the cloudy sky. If she had to guess, it was a little after noon. And she thought of Dan.

Oh, poor Dan. She hadn't even considered what he must've thought when he saw the paper. He could have either dived deeper into his depression, or the information might've sent him over the edge. _Which might explain the perfume..._ Regardless, what if he needed someone right now? And she'd just left. Underneath green fabric she felt her pockets. Just her keys. Nope, she didn't bring her phone. Damn. And there was no way to explain to them why they should go back. Not that Nolan would. Not for Edward. But still…

As soon as they reached their destination, she was borrowing Clara's phone and bolting for the bathroom. She'll call and see how he is then. _Yeah, sounds like a plan._

"Hey, Jen." She turned to Nolan. "Give us a brief run down on the build of the mansion. If he doesn't let us in, we'll break in, and we've got to know what kind of place we're in."

She let out a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, leaning as far back into the seat as the upholstery would allow. "Okay… you start in the first foyer. There's stairs, and there's a door directly across from the entrance. When you go in the door…"

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**  
Author's Note: And we've got a story going! Whee! Finally, a storyline! Thank god. A reason for people to read this! So... go ahead and read. And there's sixty two hits on this thing, I know you're reading this. So, leave a review, okay? It doesn't have to be signed, I take anon. Even a basic "You suck" is alright. And even though I'd like to know why it sucked, at least that tells me I need to be watching for something . I just want to know what peopel think.**

**R&R PLEASE. Any commentarty appreciated. **


	4. Time's Sake

**Author's Note: Keep in mind that when this chapter starts, it's about two hours before**** Jenny reads the newspaper last chapter.**

**Genre: Horror/Drama  
Pairings: Bobby/Dan, implied Jenny/Dan  
Rating: S'kinda gory. The chapter itself might be MA... dammit.  
Chapter Summary: After getting back to the "family business", Bobby informs Dan they'll be taking a trip.**

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**No Need for Apologies**  
Chapter Four: Time's Sake  
_By: Mazzie May_

Dan stared hallow-eyed into the living room. Nothing was living in there. Not anymore. Not even the plant in the corner. His eyes traced the blood trails down the wall across the room until they reached wood floor. _It's going to warp soon_, he thought, scanning the entire floor, noting the little of it remaining free of red. His eyes traveled up the legs of the babysitter—_Rana, wasn't it?_—and just to her left, little Amy face down.

"Oh my God, please!" she cries, holding the sobbing child in her arms. Rana is clutching her so tight her nails break through the child's pajamas. Dan lifts the scissors and strikes Amy out of her arms. Rana screams as the girl is sent to the ground, bouncing off the table. She lay there, making pitiful noises of hurt and distress.

_The babysitter tries to run, but Dan unhinges the sheers and sends a blade straight into her back. She's screaming again, a sound Dan can't take, and he hovers above her. Taking hold of the handle, he shifts the blade further north. The skin splits easily with a slick noise and blood spits up at him. The screaming becomes wet and choked and Rana is gurgling her own blood. He drops down and tilts his head and watches as the bitter nectar of life rushes in pulses from her mouth and nose. She lifts her head, maybe to breath, maybe to try and scream again, but he removed the scissor blade and places his hand on the back of her head. _

_He forces her face into her blood and tears and snot. He watches her wriggle, pounding her hands on the floor. He uses his other hand to run his finger down the cut on her back. After trailing it, he goes back to the start and sticks his finger _inside_ of it, and then runs his hand down again. The exposed muscle sluggishly pops and parts for him. Again, she tries to scream, but she in hails nothing but her blood. Her thrashing slows._

_A few moments later, she stops moving all together._

He stared down at the child always dressed in pink.

_He turns Amy over on her back. Her arm is at an awkward angle, obviously broken. A deep red-brown mark has formed on her neck where she's hit the table corner. It must've crushed her windpipe; she's wheezing out puffs of red. Dan can't look at this. He takes her head by her hair and gives it a sharp turn. The snap echoes and her head bobbles, whatever saliva she'd been holding in her mouth spilling over pale lips. He lets her head go._

_Her skull connecting with the hard floor makes a decent sounding crack._

He turned away from the bodies and headed back into the hall. The old blood had begun to dry, becoming tacky and when he stepped thought it, he was followed by sticky noises. He didn't stop to look at the man of the house.

_Dan stood up, re-hinging the scissor blades just as he came down the stairs, clad only in sweat pants and all wet. Dan opened the blades wide and threw them at him. The sharp metal pins him back against the wall, and he brings his hands up to free his neck of the hold. Dan runs up to him, stopping quickly, taking hold of the handles. Little beads of blood are appearing just below the impromptu murder device. His hair's already plastered to his forehead and Dan thinks that he might've been in the shower. Dan stares at his face a moment, watching the sweat on his lower lip appear, his cheeks hallowing in and out as he breathed. Dan closes the scissors and pulls away. The head remains on the scissors for a moment before toppling off to the right, making wet thumps as it lands and rolls. The body loses to gravity soon after and crumples to the floor, the leg turning at an awkward angle. And Dan is surprised by the lack of blood. Not that there isn't a large amount, he just expected it to pool out faster and wider than it was. He noted the small bits of grayish meat protruding from the thickness. He turned away and while walking up the stairs, he looks over the railing, down at the head._

_He waited for it to blink at him as the spinal fluid gently leaked out in even waves._

He climbed the stairs, ignoring the kitchen. The smell of burnt hair and a smoldering body fill the house. There was no need to go back to the place he first entered.

_The glass door is broken easily enough and Stacey cries out as the shards rain down on her. Her mother gasps as he enters, but Stacey has dashed out of the kitchen, calling for her father. Before the poor woman can do the same, he grabs her shoulder and runs the thick metal through her abdomen. She opens her mouth, but he covers it, forcing her head backwards on the stovetop. She's soft and plump. The blades slide in and out with no effort on his part and he can feel the warm wetness of what's being removed with each stab, and the heavier, hotter thick innards smacking against his own stomach, some sticking, others falling to the tile floor with a sick slap! The shredding of her belly makes thick squishy sounds_

_And then he smells something. Looking away from her too wide eyes he sees the smoke. He hadn't realized the stove was on. Her hair and blouse are pressed against hot burners and they've caught flame. He lets her up but she falls to the floor. Probably not dead, but she isn't going anywhere._

_Dan tilts his head as she twitches face down in what was probably her favorite room, the flames eating away at the back of her head and down the back of her body; the blouse fire spread to the long skirt. He can hear her skin blister, and watches as the blackened skin on her arms shrivels back to reveal layer after layer, only to burn away. The smell is acrid and it makes his nose itch and his throat burn. He steps over her, careful not to catch fire himself._

_She doesn't notice; she's too busy twitching._

At the top of the stairs, he glanced into the bathroom, where Stacey was hanging over the bathtub. Apparently, she tried to hide in there after her father got out. Dan didn't know what happened. Bobby had slain her about the time he was pinning her dad to the wall.

Her blonde curls were clumped together with red, hanging below her head, giving a full view of her face; her mouth open in a frozen scream, one he hadn't heard, but gravity had pulled her jaw back the other way, and she appeared to be horrified as she bit her tongue. One arm slung over the wall of the shower/bathtub combination, the rest of her hiding in it. A little bit of blood had run down the edges when she first leaned over the side and some was flecked on her face, but the colour was more of a brown-purple, which would suggest to him that Bobby gutted her. Her intestines were probably resting in the tub, wrapped around her Mary-Jane clad feet.

He heard muffled screams and Bobby shushing them. He peaked into the room and saw sickly little Nancy struggling weakly and helplessly. She had pneumonia or something. Dan continued down the hall, lazily checking the rest of the rooms before the final shrieks were heard.

He hurried back to the door. He waited until it opened. Bobby smiled at him.

"Find anyone else, Daniel?" he asked, wiping his blades off on a shirt from the girl's room.

Dan didn't hesitate. "No, Brother. You beat me up here."

Bobby smiled. "You were taking too long." He held up the scissors. "You like these ones more?"

Dan looked down at the red blades. They were long still, but the pairs they were using now weren't as wide. They resembled a large pair of scissors now, as opposed to the gigantic gardening sheers they were known for. Bobby turned his back and forth in his hands. "They're lighter and easier to use, I think."

Dan stopped looking at his and blinked at his brother, itching to leave. He hadn't found Lacey, and he thought it was a safe bet that his brother hadn't either. And he knew every member of the family was home. The sooner they left, the better. If Bobby found he wasn't being totally honest…

"Got them from the most delightful of children," Bobby continued. "Wore feathers in their hair, but still. Delightful." He took Dan's and walked back into the room. "Come here, Daniel."

Dan followed nervously. "Why…" he watched Bobby set their weapons on the dresser. "Why don't we leave?"

"No," was the flat reply. Bobby turned around, casually pushing Nancy off her bed. Dan fought to keep his face straight as the heavy and wet thud erupting from beneath her opened belly, soft, shoddy, wet stuff splattering out around her.

He'd had enough. Dan turned to leave. Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him around and shoving him on the bed. Dan grimaced. Warm, wet sheets were the bad. Warm, bloody sheets were the worst. "Brother, I want to leave." Bobby climbed on top of him.

"You did so well today, Daniel," he said, looking pleased, messing with Dan's pants. "I'm going to reward you."

The wet sheets and little Lacey were quickly forgotten. "H-here?" He tried to push his hands away, but ended up just being pinned the way he did the night before. Dan blushed, realizing how much he liked the position. "Brother, not here, please…"

Bobby looked at him, smirking. "So, I can, but not here." Dan froze. He started to protest, but Bobby continued to pull at his jeans, working them too his knees.

"You're not doing this again, Daniel. We both know better."

Dan turned his head to the side, ashamed. He did know better. After last night, there was nothing that could be done. He'd wanted approval for so long, it didn't matter if this was the way it was displayed. He waited for a repeat of last night. Instead, he felt Bobby pushing his legs a part.

He lifted his head as far as he was allowed, looking at him in confusion. Bobby laughed a little.

"I was making a point before," he said, as though he were explaining a joke. "But right now…" He began to unfasten his own belt, leaning over so his face was right above his brother's. "I'm going to reward you," he whispered.

--

Dan stared at the ceiling out of the corner of his eye, softly gasping. He was counting the splatters of blood. He wasn't going anywhere. He'd been rocked by three orgasms and now felt nothing but a weakening, tingling sensation through out his entire body. His vision faded in and out, his mind was hazy. He still had a hold on the headboard. Wincing, he decided to ask his brother if next time he could stay on his back and save his knees from the fabric-burn of sheets.

Bobby had left him about ten minutes ago, completely unfazed by the last… how long had it been? How long did that fantastic thing last? Regardless, Bobby dug deep with one final thrust, sending Dan's face into the rough pillow before pulling away. Then he left. That's all Dan noticed. He was a little busy sobbing into the dry, cracking pillow.

"Daniel! Daniel?" Bobby called from the bottom of the stairs. Dan couldn't even speak. Some creaking, and then seasoned killer was in the room, seemly in good spirits. "Everything's going well! She took it with her, so that means she remembers." He took the scissors off the dresser, placing them into their own black cases. "She almost saw me, though. I suppose I'm a little rusty…" His grin shifted to a frown when he looked back at Dan.

"Daniel. Why are you still laying there?" He set the cases down. "We can't let them get too far a head of us…" He walked over to him, and when he placed his hands on either side of Dan's head, the hardened sheets cracked, sending flakes of dried blood into the air.

"Sorry…" he muttered, eyes still unfocused, face wet and flushed.

Bobby let out a noise suspiciously like a growl and grabbed his brother's shirt, and Dan hissed. All the sweating he did soaked his shirt, and when Bobby turned him over and put a hand on Dan's back, pushing his chest into the mattress, his shirt started absorbing the blood. When it dried, he was stuck to the mattress.

Bobby yanked him up and back into a sitting position. "Get dressed. Now." He shoved his little brother forward with force. "We've got to hurry. If she reaches Jennifer before we do—"

"'She'?" Dan wheezed out, trying to ignore the constricting feeling of guilt winding around his lungs and stomach at the mention of Jenny while he was trying to relish his brother's touch.

"A dangerous, terrible girl. Met her for the briefest of moments whilst collecting these," he gestured with the cases. "Don't attack her. She has these arrows… I'm not sure what it's all about yet. I'll check the libraries later." He disappeared out the door, mumbling something about 'time' and 'the past'.

Left alone, Dan grabbed his jeans from their stationary position near Nancy and pulled them up, shakily fallowing Bobby, unable to stand straight. He still hadn't gotten a total hold on himself. "Brother, where are we going?"

Turning around, Bobby looked up from an old pocket watch Dan hadn't seen before. He smiled his perfected mean grin.

"Home."

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**Author's Note: Meh... This isn't a filler chapter, but not by much. More like a builder chapter, strengthing the fondation for later plot devices. Over all, I'm not very fond of the chapter. It makes several points, points that are good on their own. But put together, I think the chapter comes off as rushed, choppy, disorginized... Next chapter will be better. I promise. By the way, I don't mean to keep alternating between Dan and Jenny. It's just happening that way. Also, did you catch the CT3 refrences (which really aren't refrenses, 'cause they mean something, but whatever).**

**R&R please. Any commentary appreciated. **


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